


A Circle, a Prayer, and a Deal

by aiden_13



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:36:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiden_13/pseuds/aiden_13
Summary: I’ve had this idea for a Demon-Hunter!Reader x Demon!/Fallen!Junkrat in 1500s/1600s? period setting for a while now. SFWish (swearing, violence, and suggestive theme warning) w/non-binary reader :) (I’ve been playing a lot of Witcher III so that definitely inspired a lot of the mood and setting)





	A Circle, a Prayer, and a Deal

You adjust the satchel on your back, it’s dismally light. Nothing but a spare set of clothes and your bedroll lie in it. You’re munching on your last apple. 

“Green Orchard,” you read the sign. It’s a quaint name for a quaint village. And things tend to go wrong in the quaintest of villages. The quaintest villages also tend to have the biggest bigots. 

You take a deep breath and toss the apple core into some bushes, nothing you haven’t heard before. 

You stroll into the village, putting on your best, unintimidating smile. You need this job: you had to sell your horse three villages back, and now you didn’t even have two coins to rub together. 

You walk up to the closest villager with the biggest grin you could muster, “Greetings, good sir! Could you let me know where the elder of the village is?”

The man gives you a lazy look-over before scoffing, “What’s it to ya’?”

Gripping the strap of your satchel tightly, you continue smiling, “I heard about a demon plaguing your village and I can hel-”

“Ah, come to steal us blind I see,” the man stops chopping wood and crosses his arms. “I’ve heard about you demon ‘unters, running with the devils and conjuring up evil. Then squeezing every last bit o’ copper to ‘save’ ‘em.”

You drop the smile and grimace. Yeesh, it was this bad, huh?

The man continues, jabbing a finger into your chest accusingly, “Mighty suspicious how a demon appears and wreaks ‘avoc on our crops and our livestock and a demon ‘unter just so ‘appens to come gallivanting through!”

Some villagers begin to gather about, listening, whispering, pointing at you and your mark. 

You bow your head, “I assure you, no demon hunter would summon a reckless, uncontrollable evil just to make some coin off poor, decent folk.” 

“That’s not what the pastor says, and he has the word of God to protect him!” The man continues. The small crowd murmurs in hushed agreement. 

You roll your eyes. Of course. The Church recently had begun to branch into their own brand of demon hunting… and there’s no better way to stomp the competition than to do a little mud-slinging. 

“I’m not from here, I’ve never stepped in this village before,” you continue speaking in earnest.

“Even worst, a foreigner!” Someone in the crowd remarks loudly. 

You chew your lip, at this rate, you’d be sleeping hungry again tonight. You tap the mark on your neck, “Good folk of Green Orchard, I am here to rid you of your demon and I want nothing in return. Your coin is safe and should stay in your hard working hands.” 

The crowd’s tone shifts favorably. The wood chopper narrows his eyes, “Suspicious, a demon ‘unter not demandin’ coin for work?”

You smile through gritted teeth, can’t win, can I?

“Just point me in the direction of the pastor and the demon will be gone within a week,” you gesture broadly. 

There’s a slight pause before an old woman speaks up, “You can find him there. Ask for Pastor Edmund.” 

You thank the old woman and begin marching in the direction she pointed at. In tough crowds like these, where a shred of fear could turn fifty-some odd villagers against you, it was better to work for free or just leave. Rumors of demon-hunter lynchings and burnings were rampant. The Queen had grown intolerant of the Old Faith recently and demon-hunters were definitely old news. 

Hopefully, one of the villagers heard your generous offer, was struck by compassion and would offer you a bit of food and a roof to sleep under tonight. 

You approach the center-most building in the village. Built of stone and thick birch roofing, it was easily the nicest building in the village. You knock on the door and an elderly woman answers the door, “Yes?”

“My name is *your name.* I’m a demon hunter and I was hoping I could speak to Pastor Edmund to learn more about the demon that’s been terrorizing your village.”

Her eyes widen and she opens the door, “Yes, yes, please, do come in. Let me fetch him, I’ll be just a moment.” 

You nod and stand at the threshold. Really nice place. Split oak flooring, polished nice and smooth. A white stone altar with effigies of the Father and Mother. Effigies painted in the brightest pigments the church could afford. Aside from their foreboding, quiet expressions, they looked vivid and lifelike. And judging with the smell of fresh wood, this place had been built in the last few months. 

From the side hall, a solemn man appears, the old woman walking in behind in tow. 

“Ah, demon hunter,” he greets you, hands clasped. 

“Pastor,” you give a small bow.

“Sister Therese tells me you are here about the village demon?”

“Yes, I heard about it back in White Vale.”

“Ah White Vale, our sister village. And pray tell what were you doing there?”

You didn’t like his tone, but you shrug and keep a neutral voice, “I was trying to find work. Frost sprites and imps usually begin waking up this time of the year and I know they give folk a hard time.”

“Ah, work. A demon hunter helping potato farmers with an imp nest? Seems beneath you,” he’s walking circles around you, examining every inch of you.

You clench your fists but smile, “No work is beneath me sir. I live to serve everyone. Kings and potato farmers alike.”

“You live to serve yourself. Coin comes first for demon hunters,” he corrects. 

“…ah well, I’d do it for free if food and shelter didn’t cost money, sir,” you answer, flatly.

“One of the kitchen boys tells me you’ll be ridding us of this demon for free?”

Wow, news travels fast here doesn’t it. You nod, “Yes, sir.” 

“Why?”

“One of the villagers seemed very upset with me and my Order. I thought I’d volunteer this job as an act of faith-”

“Hah! What does a demon hunter know of faith?” Pastor Edmund scoffs. “Though, the Lord and Mother works in mysterious ways… perhaps you were sent here by their will and their will redirected you from your kind’s wicked greed.”

You want to punch him. Pastors and preachers were usually a walk in the park but this one is a real peace of work.

“Uhm, yes, that,” you pull out a notebook and your last bit of charcoal , “Now, can you tell me about the demon?”

Sister Therese pipes up, “It was horrible! We had just come from the Holy City to Green Orchard, to start a congregation here… but as we began building, terrible things would happen.”

“Such as?” You thumb to a blank page.

Pastor Edmund sneered, “Vile, unholy acts. The demon burned disgusting messages into the church’s sacred ground. It left mutilated corpses all about.”

“Villagers had been killed?” You stop writing in shock. Was this a higher-demon?

“Oh, thankfully no, just livestock. The demon would steal sheep and slaughter them! Splaying them out in depraved, ritualistic manners! All on sacred land!” Sister Therese wrung her hands. 

You sigh in relief. Nope just a lesser-demon. You continue, “Alright… when did this happen?”

“Animal slaughter is no slight matter,” Pastor Edmund admonishes you, “This demon is taunting us. Slaying the very animal of God on God’s doorstep.” 

You almost burst a vein trying not to roll your eyes, “My apologies, pastor. Continue, sister, please.”

“It all happened 4 months ago. We came to the village and the church was half built, and that’s when all of this horror began to occur.”

“Is there a pattern? Does the demon like to come on any particular days?”

“Sundays! It always comes on the holy seventh day. It is a most particularly fiendish spirit.” 

“And I’m assuming it likes to come at night?”

“Hah! And you call yourself a demon hunter,” Pastor Edmund shakes his head, “This one is crafty. It’s come in the middle of the night and in the middle of the day. Disguising itself in the flesh of others, mimicking villagers and screaming unholy blasphemy during prayer!”

“… it can shape-shift?” You raise a brow. Demons don’t shape shift.

Edmund looks like he could burst a vein, “No you fool! It possesses people!!! It possesses villagers!!”

You stop writing altogether, “Has anyone figured out if it has a favorite herd to pick on? Or what attracts it?”

Sister Therese shakes her head, “No my dear, it just seems to have a penchant for harassing the villagers and creating trouble for the church.”

Well. Not to side with evil here…but I can see why.

“Do you still have any of the burnt wood or messages the demon left behind?”

“Of course not! We burnt them immediately. Harbingers of bad luck and evil, they are,” the pastor crosses his arms.

Of course you did. 

“In that case, I’ll be looking around the church to see if I can pick up its tracks. Thank you for all your help,” you snap the notebook shut and give a small bow to them both. 

“Tread carefully demon hunter,” Pastor Edmund states, rather threateningly. 

You step outside and pause to think. Demons in this region of the country are rarely interested enough to interact with humans, let alone go through the trouble and time of possessing them. Unless this was a higher-order demon? But it can’t be…those had an aura so powerful, it would be like picking up stink on a dog rolled in dung. It was definitely a prankster: slaughtering lambs in a house of god, specifically appearing on the Holy day of the week… it wanted the villagers’ attention and it got it. So what now? What could it want?

Before you could continue the thought, a small voice interrupts you.

“Uhm, excuse me,” a small boy approaches you. “Are you the demon hunter?”

You give a wide grin, “Yes, I am!”

“And… and are you going to kill the demon?”

“Yes I am! That’s my job,” you nod reassuringly. 

“Could you also cure my brother? The demon possessed him last week and now he won’t wake up.”

You frown, “Can I meet your brother?”

The young one bobs his head yes and immediately grabs your hand. Your led through the village to a small house at the edge. It’s practically a hovel. The child throws open the door and with much gusto, declares, “Mom! Dad! I found a demon hunter!! They can treat Vincent and kill the demon!!” 

An exhausted looking man walks forward and apologetically bows his head, “Oh meister hunter, I’m so sorry. My son is a bit too forward with strangers.”

“Don’t worry about it. He said that his brother is ill? From a demon possession?”

The man’s wife comes forward and takes the child in her arms, “Yes. But we have no money to pay you, meister. We had to sell our last goat to pay Vincent’s physician bills.” 

Your expression softens, “I won’t take coin from you, even if you had it.” 

“What can we do for you, then?” The man clasps your hand. 

“Can you tell me what happened to Vincent? I’m trying to track the Demon.”

The man leans back in his chair, “Twas’ the oddest thing, good meister. We all had breakfast as usual and went to church for Sunday prayers. When all of the sudden, in the middle of the congregation, Vincent stood up. Pastor Edmund scolded the child for interrupting prayer and suddenly Vincent spoke but it wasn’t him.”

“A different voice?”

“Yes, and such a wicked voice it was, high pitched like a screaming woman’s but also deep and low like a bellowing man all at once,” the man shudders, “It spoke through Vincent, naming all these vices and sins of the villagers. Things I couldn’t even believe were true!”

“Such as?”

The woman covered the little boy’s ears with her hands and whispered, “Saying things like the ealdorman’s daughter is a fornicator, the smithee’ is mixing cheap metals into his wares so they’d break faster, the pastor steals from the benefit box to buy himself whores!”

“Those people’s faces went so ashen and white, you would’ve thought there was truth in the accusations!” The man says, “Then poor Vincent collapses on the floor and hadn’t woken up since.”

The woman shoos the little boy away, “Church hasn’t done anything to help us. The villagers outcast us, thinking we’re cursed, touched by evil. Some won’t even sell us food or goods.”

“I’m sorry,” you mean it. 

“Please, help us meister hunter,” the man squeezes your hand in his. “We know you deserve coin for your work, but we can only offer you some gruel and our roof.”

Oh, thank god. You give the first genuine smile all day, “That is all I need.” 

The family insists you stay for supper and let you eat off the best bowl they own. The gruel is watery and tastes a little bit like hay, but warms you up and invigorates you. The couple insist you eat your fill and apologizes over and over for its insubstantial nature. You reassure them of their kindness and eat with gusto. 

“What’s that mark on your face?” The boy asks. 

The couple look horrified at their child’s boldness. You laugh, “When you complete your schooling as a hunter, you pick a specialty to apprentice under. I chose demon-hunting and so, I was marked under that order.”

“Oh, so it lets you know who your friends are!”

“A little bit,” you grin. You turn to the parents, “May I examine Vincent?”

“Of course, right this way,” the wife leads you to the corner of the shack, a tattered blanket is hung across for makeshift privacy. 

The boy lies still, breathing shallowly. His temperature feels normal, albeit he’s sweaty to the touch. You touch his neck, pressing your finger gently into his flesh, his heart is beating just fine. Steady and strong. 

Hmm…

You open his mouth and take a deep breath. 

“M-meister?”

Suspicion confirmed. 

“Your son is alive and well, he’ll wake back up any day now. The demon somehow got your son to eat the Dormis sallow herb and then used it’s own magic to throw its voice into his body, making it look like he was speaking through it.”

“Oh!! So our son isn’t possessed?” The woman begins to tear up.

“Not at all.”

“And he’ll wake up? Just like that?”

“He will have a horrible headache when he does, but give him water and gruel as you would any sick person and he’ll be back to good health in a few days,” you smile. 

“Oh, thank the gods, thank the gods,” the man begins to cry. “Not even the church physician could tell us that.”

“Dormis sallow is rare and only grows in the thickest of marshes and must be harvested under a full moon for full potency,” you remark. “The church doesn’t believe in the Old Ways, I feel some knowledge has been lost to them because of this… And this demon isn’t as powerful as it’s led people to believe, but it does want you to believe it. It’s gone through great lengths and theatrics to achieve all this.” 

“But why our son?” The woman asks. 

“Only the demon knows that,” you shrug. “I’ll be back! Thank you so much for the meal, I am fully invigorated and energized to find this demon.” 

You leave the happy family to enjoy the good news in peace. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For the most part, the other villagers leave you be, save for the occasional glare. But you had work to do. Green Orchard was had some swampy lands south of it, past the grazing grounds of the sheep. The boy’s breath had the distinct sweet, tangy sour of the herb. You had heard stories of the Dark Forest Crones kidnapping children by magicking the herb to look like gingerbread and iced buns… but this child was allowed to stay. Plenty of opportunity for the demon to snatch the kid if it wanted to eat him. Maybe it was…bored? 

You walk around the village’s perimeters, palms open, feeling the aura in the air. Nothing unusual. It had to be a lesser demon; you could barely detect any dark energy, even in the church where the demon was most bold. Not much of the demon’s motivation was clear save for being mischievous and disruptive. 

It didn’t leave any trails behind save for the distinctive smell. Even though the Pastor had the church scrubbed and removed anything it touched, the church smelt of it strongest. Unctuous like torched hair and flesh, smoky and acrid like burnt sugar, and a touch coppery and sharp like blood. 

Pinpointing a clear direction where scent comes from is difficult. The smell is diffuse throughout the entire village and slightly stronger in certain patches but with no clear trail to follow. 

Hmm… time to set a trap and be done with it. You couldn’t expect the poor family to keep feeding you forever. Best to clean this up and move on. 

You eventually settle on a collapsed house not too far from the church. It stood in the corner of the village, overlooking the field where the villagers grazed their live stock.The house’s roof rotted and caved in a long time ago but part of the main ceiling beam was still intact, perfect for stringing a trap up there. You take the silver circle bracelet off your wrist and strike it against the floor. It rings thrice before expanding into a giant hoop, large enough for a big man to stand in comfortably. You expertly suspend the hoop into the air with some crafty knot-work. 

Now to camp out and wait for it. 

You build a nice fire in the crumbling remains of the house’s hearth. And just in time, the sun sets and everything is quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the gentle baa-ing of the sheep. 

You sit against one of the house’s remaining walls and take a deep breath. Need to attract the demon. You hold your open palms upwards towards the sky and imagine disrobing. First your clothes, then your skin, then your earthly body. All of it melts in your mind. 

You open your eyes and grin. A visible aura of energy seeps from your hands, floating into the air the way aurora borealis lights ebb and flow across the night sky. You walk around the house, gently shaking your hands as you walk, “sprinkling” some of your essence here and there. 

You come to the spot beneath the ring and clap your hands together. The aura changes and drips straight downward into golden drops, soaking the dingy floor. You close your eyes and imagine walls closing inward, coming closer and closer until your chest feels tight. You can’t breathe. You can’t scream. You gasp and open your eyes, shivering. Closing off your energy was never something you were good at. 

“Alright there, love?” A voice asks. 

You start backwards, hands immediately reach for the daggers on your belt, “Reveal yourself.”

The voice laughs and the shadows of the fire grows higher and higher, “If the young meister so wishes it…”

Wind rushes throughout the ruined house, making you stagger back. The shadows climb and writhe across the walls. It congeals into a dark spot on the wall adjacent to you. A clawed hand reaches out first, then bit by bit a blood red demon climbs through. He dusts himself off and grins, flashing the sharpest fangs you’ve ever seen. He has two glowing amber orbs for eyes. Ebony horns protrude from his forehead and judging by their length… he was at least 200 years old. 

He bows with a flourish, “Junkrat, at your service.” 

You draw the daggers but relax your stance, “Are you the demon that’s been causing all the mischief here in Green Orchard?”

“Oh yes, that’d be me,” he giggles, flashing you a toothy smile. His right arm and right leg are ephemeral, like its made of black smoke. On his back, he sports a spiked black iron wheel of some sort. It floats behind him, following him as he walks. 

You narrow your eyes in confusion then recognize the handiwork, “Is… is that the Circle of Mathias?” 

“This?” He taps the wheel. “Ah yeah, marvelous handiwork. You gotta’ hand it to Mathias for knowing his stuff.” 

“That’s a circle of binding. How are you still walking?” You demand. 

“Ah well, I needed a small favor from Mathias, but you know, I can’t exactly stroll up to the man and ask him to bind me. So I had to raise hell, so to say, attract his attention and get him to bind me.”

You tighten your grip on the dagger, “Did you kill Mathias?!”

Lord and Mother help you if he did… Mathias the Unbroken was one of the most famous, if not the most famous, demon hunters of your age. People say as a younger hunter, he single-handedly took on a Fallen and wounded it before it took his eye and fled.

“Oh, heavens no,” he laughs, “But I did have to uh, sacrifice a bit o’ meself, so he’d think he got me.” He flexes his right arm. 

“You willingly let yourself be bound?” You raise a brow, walking slowly towards him.

“You see my dear, much like you, I have a hard time dampening my aura. So a little help was necessarily,” he flourishes dramatically. 

You halt. He was right. You could smell him completely, fully now, but barely felt any aura, any energy from him. You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping. The Circle of Mathias is famous for bringing down the most violent and stubborn of demons. But he, he was standing, walking with it on his back. And he did it purposefully to cover his tracks… 

“What do you want?” You take another step closer. “All demons want something.”

“All well, you see, that’s where you come in,” he walks towards you, his feet leaving singed marks as he walked, “I want you, *your name*.” 

“Wha… what?”

“Took me fucking ages to track you down, love,” he taps your nose with his flesh hand. 

You tremble as a warmth ripples through you where he touched. It was… it was pleasant.

“So you burnt down buildings and ruined people’s livestock just to attract the attention of a demon-hunter?” You shake the sensation from your head. “What? Couldn’t just have sent me a letter?”

“Eh, this is more fun,” he laughs. 

“What do you want from me?” You pull back. Just a few steps more.

“I have a proposition for you, a deal of sorts,” he steps towards you. 

“Yeah?”

“I want you to join me, and help me kill the Queen.”

You knit your brows together, “The Queen. As in the Queen of Justinia. The Queen, as in, the ruler of the five kingdoms, INCLUDING THE ONE WE’RE IN RIGHT NOW. Then Queen as in the RED QUEEN? Destroyer of the Fallen, Vanquisher of her enemies, and Rightful Ruler of men?” 

“… yeah, that one!” He smiles.

“You’re crazy if you think I’d agree to that and crazier if you think I’d make a deal with a demon.”

“Ah, well, that’s where you’re slightly, slightly wrong,” he’s dangerously close to you now. He looms over you with a shit-eating grin. Right where you want him.

You snap your fingers and step back. The silver ring snaps free of the cordage and falls perfectly around him. 

“Another binding circle?” He scoffs. “Darling, you can’t bind me. Not even Mathias could.” 

You cross your arms and mimic his tone, “Ah, well, darling, this is where you’re slightly wrong.”

He frowns. 

You smile, “It’s a transmutation circle.”

“No, wait! I-” He runs himself into the ring’s invisible wall. “*Your name* give me a chance to expl-” 

The ground in the circle glows bright and white-hot light shoots outward into the sky with a noise like a canon firing. You’re knocked back by the sheer force and you lie blinking over and over until your eyes readjust and you can see again. 

“Ugh… should’ve been more careful,” you stumble over to the circle. The circle ring had shrunk back to bracelet size with a brand-new red gem embedded in it. 

You slip it on and fall back onto the ground, exhausted. Your eyelids feel heavy and sleep begins to wash over you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Up on your feet, charlatan!!!” A voice commands. 

“Huh, wha-what?” You mumble as several hands grab you and pull you upright. 

Freezing cold water hits you, shocking you awake. 

“There, that sacred water should dampen its powers…” Pastor Edmund nods approvingly. 

“P-pastor? What’s going on?” You gasp. 

He glares at you venomously and you realize he’s very much not alone. Practically the entire village is there, all carrying torches, some carrying rope. 

Fuck. 

“What did I do?” 

“What did YOU DO?? You have the AUDACITY to summon a demon here!! And you ASK what you did??!!” Pastor Edmund shouts. 

“I ‘eard it!! I ‘eard all of it!!” The wood-chopper from earlier steps forward. “The demon said it was here for you, it was lookin’ for you.”

If you could roll your eyeballs into the back of your head, you would, “I didn’t summon it. The demon said-”

“Ahah! Talking to demons now, are ye? See, they admit it! They’ve been talkin’ to evil spirits!” The wood-chopper points at you. The crowd mumurs in agreement.

“Pastor, just have your church’s hunters look around. The demon is gone. I trapped it and it won’t do anymore harm,” you give your most professional tone. 

“Lies again,” Edmund hisses. “I had my hunters check and the demon hasn’t gone at all! In fact… it’s evil presence is still here. In YOU!”

“What?” You look at your bracelet. “Ah, fuck.” 

“How do you confess to this most unholy of crimes? Summoning evil and in doing do, spitting in the very face of the Lord and the Mother?”

You look at the tense crowd, at your bracelet, and the pastor and weigh your options. You look at your captors, “Nothing I say will result in me not getting hanged, huh?”

They’re silent, looking at you with a mixture of horror and disgust. 

“I’m innocent. I did not summon any demons or consort with any evil,” you gesture emphatically. 

“The so-called demon-hunter refuses to confess and repent their sin! We must cleanse them of evil!” Pastor Edmund declares. 

The crowd roars with approval. 

He continues, “Only holy fire can cleanse us of such evil. We must burn the demon in the hunter and only then can we be free of their evil!!”

You’d cover your face with your palms if you weren’t restrained. The Pastor stirs the fear in the crowd and soon you find yourself bound in shackles in the village square. Villagers bring firewood and toss it into the growing pile that would soon be your pyre. 

You take a deep breath and look around. You can’t run, there’s 4 big men standing guard around you. The shackles around your ankle also limits you to hopping. They had taken your daggers from you so no magic-channeling. The “holy” water they threw on you was really an aura-dampening potion. Your chest feels tight and heavy, summoning energy now, especially after transmutating the demon, felt like trying to draw breath with a bear sitting on you. 

The pile grows larger and larger by the minute and the anxiety in your gut grows worst and worst. 

Free me. 

What? You blink. 

Free me. I can help.

You look down at the bracelet, feeling the gem grow hot. 

Quick, before you die and I’m trapped in this form forever. 

Should’ve thought about that being blabbin’ about wanting to find me. We’re in this mess because of you.

…really? now?

YES. REALLY. NOW. You glare at your wrist.

Ugh. Free me, *your name* and I’ll help you escape with your life. Unharmed. 

Promise? 

Know of any demon who’d break a deal?

“Up on your feet!” A guard hauls you upwards. 

You dig your heels into the dirt. You shout out loud, “Yes!! Deal!! I take the deal!!” 

“What are you raving on about now?” Pastor Edmund. 

“Come on, come on, come on. Oh gods, oh gods,” you begin to thrash as another man punches you in the gut, knocking the air out of you.

“Praying to the Old Gods won’t help you now, demon!!” The pastor shouts. 

The gem had gone cold. All calm and composure left you and you begin kicking wildly, thrashing, screaming. But too many hands are on you and restrain you. You’re tied and bound to a stake. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” tears stream down your face. Not like this. Not to fire. 

The pastor raises an earthen ware jug into the air to the cheering of the crowd, and douses the pyre, walking up and around the stacked wood until he reaches you. He spits at you, and you’re soaked in the strong alcohol and it stings your eyes, blurring your vision. 

The scene blurs into puddles of color, dotted by blinding pinpoints of torch light. 

“You fucking liar!!!” You scream, spitting the stinging alcohol out. 

Emotions flood you. You worked too goddamn fucking hard to make it here. You were nothing. An abandoned infant, another mouth your parents couldn’t feed. You were the unwanted from the orphanages and even the Order of Hunters barely wanted you. A weakling. But you applied yourself and worked your fingers to the bone. Eating, sleeping, and drinking Hunting allowed you to ascend to the highest order of hunters: the demon-hunters. And all of this ruined. Because of the poisonous fear in the heart of men. 

“Burn in hell where you belong demon,” the pastor condemns you with a single glare. 

He touches a torch to the fire and the brittle wood instantly ignites. You can’t breathe. The fire climbs, creeping towards you with alarmingly speed. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the crescendo of fear swells in your chest. The crowd screams. 

“As I was saying, this is where you’re slightly, slightly wrong,” a familiar voice chuckles. “I’m not a demon.”

You look, vision still blurred by the alcohol in your eyes. The “demon” is leaning against the stake, standing perfectly in the growing flames. Mathias’s circle stands around you and the flames stand back. 

He snaps his fingers and your vision clears instantly, you can breathe and you feel your aura flowing again. With a quick swipe of his claws, you’re free. He offers you a hand to steady you and leads you off the burning pyre. The flames lick at you but they’re as soft as a baby’s touch and warm as a stove is on a cold winter’s day. The tiny, tiny bits of his aura you read from before was like a rivulet, the aura he emanates right now is a waterfall.

“Th-the demon!! It returns!!!” Pastor Edmund shrieks. “Hunters! Prepare!!” 

White and red robed hunters rush forward and hurl handfuls of salt.

“As I was saying…” he dusts the herbal sand off himself, “I’m not a demon.” 

He turns to you with a knowing smile, “I’m a Fallen.” 

“Fuck,” you mumble. 

“Alright, who wants to take on a Fallen, first?” He taunts them. “Come on, you’ll be a legend if you can even touch me.”

“What do you want you vile spirit?!!” Pastor Edmund raises a first full of salt. 

“I’m here for this one,” he pats you on the head. “Let me take one little human and I’ll spare your village.” 

“Take ‘em!!” The pastor entreats. “And begone!!” 

The Fallen chuckles and walks past the guard to the trembling pastor. He’s so tall. He leans forward and bends his knee until he’s level with the man. In a tone like a father admonishing his naughty child, he speaks, “That demon-hunter is what stands between me and your village being incinerated with every man, woman, and child burnt to cinders. I came here with the intention of luring them here and it worked. You nearly ruined it by being so inhospitable to ‘em. Then I’d be having this conversation with another old fart in another rinky-dink village.”

Pastor Edmund shakes, “You have what you want now leave!! Leave us be, evil spirit!”

The Fallen stands back up and laughs, turning to the crowd, “And you’re all just going to let this happen? I just told you this one’s innocent and you’re just gonna’ let me take ‘em.”

The crowd shuffles uncomfortably, no one speaks. 

“I’ve walked with the Old Gods and let me tell you old man, they’re still alive and they’ve not forgotten,” he hisses and every single flame, fire in the village flares. People gasp, dropping their torches to the muddy ground. 

“Just leave them, you have what you want,” you plead. 

“Oh no, they should pay,” he grows, his amber eyes darkening to blood red. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the little boy, eyes wide in horror. His parents stand behind him, hugging each other. 

“I’ll make a deal with you,” you stand between him and the crowd. 

“Oh?” 

“Don’t hurt them, and I’ll join you. I’ll join your cause.”

“….Can’t I hurt them just a little?”

“No!” You shout firmly. 

He crosses his arms huffily, but smiles widely, “Deal.” 

He extends his hand. You give one final brave smile to the young boy and grasp the Fallen’s hand. 

Light floods your vision, your throat closes up, and your ears pop. You drop to the ground, gasping for air, looking around. He had transported you both to a mountaintop somewhere. 

“Y-you couldn’t fucking.. do that earlier?” You wheeze for air.

“Ah, I had a point to make,” he shrugs. 

You punch him as hard as you can (it does nothing), “You fucking SCARED ME! I thought I was going to die!” 

“Yeah… Sorry about that,” he rubs your back soothingly. 

You involuntarily shudder, the warmth seeps into your weary bones. 

“Nice, ‘innit?” He smiles. 

“You’re a Fallen? You’ve been letting me make a fool of myself this entire time,” you shove him (it doesn’t move him). 

“Yeah, well. If I told you I was a Fallen right at the start you’d be running in the opposite direction and we wouldn’t be able to have this conversation right now, would we?” He gestures broadly at the scenery. The sun is rising. 

You catch your breath and turn to him, “Why me?” 

“Do you believe in prophecies, *your name*?”

“I believe in having enough coin for three meals a day,” you scoff.

“Humor me, love,” his tone surprisingly softens. 

“Fine… I believe in prophecies the way most people believe in the Old Gods. I respect them, but I don’t know how true they are.”

“Fine, fair enough. Well, I believe in prophecies and Yavalla the Green told me that the Queen will not fall until a Fallen and a Hunter ‘join blood and rank.’ ” 

“You… you spoke to Yavalla? Mother Earth?” You gape.

“Well, yeah,” he nods nonchalantly. 

You feel slightly more at ease. If Yavalla the Green, Mother of Earth and Creator of Man and Life itself would grant him audience and read his fate… surely there was something worth trusting in this Fallen?

“And… you want the Queen to fall, for revenge?”

She did earn the title Destroyer of the Fallen for a reason.

“For the greater good. Her intolerance is choking the earth. She’s killing the Old Ones off, bit by bit.”

“Huh, a Fallen that cares about the greater good.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m a selfish cunt almost all the time, but I’m not stupid. With the Queen around, the lands will rot and the poison of her reign will spread until no one is safe. She’s already persecuting followers of the Old Faith.” 

You grimace, “Yeesh. Alright, fine, fine. But what does the prophecy even mean? ‘Join blood?’” 

He smiles, “Oh easy, we fuck.” 

You blink, “What.” 

“Yeah, I mean we could do it the boring way and cut our palms and shake but I asked and Yavalla said that fucking would definitely count too.”

Somehow you imagined the Elder Goddess answering that question as more of a “I guessss???” than a definite yes. 

“I… I vote for the palm cutting,” you state. 

“Oh come on, if we make out of this alive! You get to be *Your Name*, Demon-Hunter Queenslayer, Fallen-fucker!” 

“I’ll stick to the humble title of Demon-Hunter for now,” you say, sitting down. 

“Fine, fine, I apologize. I’m probably too forward,” he snaps his finger and your dagger appears in his palm. “It’s just…”

“Just?” You take the dagger. 

“Not many demon-hunters are as good looking as you,” he mused. 

“Thanks?” You find yourself chuckling. 

He draws a claw across his flesh palm and black blood oozes in the cut. You draw your dagger across your palm and red blood seeps out. 

“Deal?” He leans in. 

“Deal,” you clasp his hand. 

A strange heat spreads from his palm to yours. It travels up your arm and through your body. You feel so light and so warm. 

“How do you do that?” You ask, still holding his hand firmly.

“Do what?” He brings your hand up in his and kisses it, so softly, so gently. 

You feel it again. A ripple of warmth spreads across you. 

“That,” you’re floating. The labor of just physically existing is lifted. 

“Eh, let’s call it a bit of magic, a lot of charm, and a dash of flirting,” he gives you one wicked smile. 

Fuck. It’s working. You clear your throat and turn your head to the side, “Yeah, well nice try.” 

“I think it’s working.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“You’re still holding me hand, love.”

“…yeah well, it’s fucking cold, and you’re warm,” you retort. 

He laughs, “You asked me earlier, why you. The prophecy doesn’t specify which demon hunter. Yavalla told me I’d just know when I meet ‘em.”

“How’d you know I was the one?” You look at him. 

He darkens a few shades of red, “I… I uh, m’ chest felt funny. Like I wanted to puke.”

You laugh, heartily, genuinely, “Wonderful.” 

“And, and I just wanted to help you. It was an odd feeling,” he continues, “Like I knew you already, let we’ve met before.” 

“Huh,” you muse, not meeting his eye, feeling a heat spread across your chest. 

His stare is too intense. You already feel your heartbeat rising and one more look into those golden eyes… you’d lose it. 

“I’m not bad, you know,” he says.

You raise your brow and look at him. He looks… embarrassed, bashful even as he stumbles over his words.

“I know what they teach you, in the order, about demons and Fallens and whatnot. But I swear I’m more reasonable than that. And if there’s any habits you don’t like, I can cha-”

You can’t take it anymore. You take his face with both of your hands and kiss him soundly. By the gods, it feels amazing. Like sinking into a hot bath after a snow storm, like being cocooned in the coziest blanket, like melting into sheer, utter bliss.

He kisses you back greedily, pulling you closer and tighter into his embrace. When you two finally part, you’re panting breathless, lying in each other’s arms.

You look at him, “Fuck…That, that was a pretty good kiss.” 

“You live for a couple centuries, you pick some things up,” he kisses your forehead.

“Teach me some of them?” You murmur, running your thumb across his jaw. 

He shudders beneath your touch, “Only if you promise to listen.”

Suddenly, he’s on top of you and kissing your neck. Your eyes flutter and you smile, “Deal.”


End file.
